Kol Nidre
by Sickle Sword
Summary: All vows must be broken. All hearts, too. [COMPLETED!]
1. Lex

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_**Kol Nidre**_

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_**Spoilers**: Hourglass. Have you noticed how many fics out there are based on this episode?_

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the following Characers, except of Anna,on whom I gladly take charge. Most of the situations described are the figment of my sick imagination and can be seen as an AU for the show._

_Reviews are very much wellcomed. So is constructive criticism.Or even a blank review. I don't really mind...  
I thank for beta-ing this story **Ligia Elena**. How she suffered me for so long, I will never know._

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_**Chapter 1: LEX**_

He always thought that prophecies were a load of bullshit.  
Sure, he knew many that believed in them, especially After, but he always doubted.  
Something fundamental inside him simply rebelled when confronting them, the birth of his skepticism about the belief that one is not his own master. That we have no control over our fate.

He had an analytic mind, science had him thrilled, not magic. He was born a doubter, one that would never be able to believe in anything, and bring doubt to the world.

Maybe this was _his_ prophecy.

Clark was the first one to believe. Even after all those years he's not sure why it surprised him. Even in his twenties the boy was an overgrown Boy Scout. One who believed in fairy tales and happy endings. One who was ready to believe where Lex couldn't. And to give everything to make it happen.

Sometimes Lex wonders why he did it, was there a hidden meaning, hidden agenda? But he already knows that if there is, he will never find that out. Clark was a too good of an actor. He proved that too many times.  
That's why he knows that everything that happened was initially his fault. Because he should have foreseen this. He should have foreseen everything, damn it!  
But he wasn't ready to face the facts. He wasn't a prophet. An even SHE didn't succeed saving the world in the end.

When thinking about her prophecy he can't help but to laugh of the bitter irony of it.  
All the prophecies he has heard about before were about love, fighting, or both. But this one had nothing to do with love. Nothing his entire life was ever about love.

The prophecy talked about an heir, not marriage or heartbreak. Those are human feelings, warm feelings. How could _she _know of those?

The prophecy didn't say that the day that Clark stood beside him as his best man was also the day he hated him the most. It didn't describe the first night with his new bride, new _scared shitless _bride. Or his own fear. Or the days after when the media published their pictures together, always together. All the time. And if one dared to stray from the other, the media knew.  
Because it was written that they would always be together, and prophecies must always be filled.

And no one cared that he didn't believe that stupid prophecy, that nothing can save humanity anymore. There was simply nothing humane left. Nobody heard when he screamed that he wanted to go, that he _needed_ to go. Away. Because the wife they forced him to marry was not feeling well. And he was only twenty-four, he wasn't ready. Fuck, he will never be ready.  
"Let me go" he begged, and they laughed.

Dad was the only one who fought for him.  
The irony.  
But even he, the powerful Lionel Luther, couldn't save him. Still, he was his hero for a while, because he tried. And in this new world nobody tried anymore.

But in this new world there were no heroes left.

They got close then, him and his father. Just a father and his son, caring for each other. He confessed his feelings and doubts, and he cried. Because he had no pride left. They took it all.  
But in one part his wife came, and they didn't even see her. She heard everything he said about her, and she froze.

"But Lex," she whispered when he realized she was here, her lips quivering, "I truly love you." Then she ran away.

"Oh, Chloe" he moaned, not knowing at whom he was angry. At her, or himself. That he wasn't capable of love.

There was rain that day … night, and thunder. It was too cold to be outside, and he was genuinely worried about her. Maybe he did love her after all?

The next day this was on the TV, on full screen, and his dad was gone. But that was OK; he didn't have anything more to complain about. No, really. Everyone has a destiny; his was simply not in his own hands to handle.

Then Clark came and he saw that his friend hadn't aged a day. Well, that was to be expected being an alien and everything. Clark told him that they'd found Chloe, and that they needed to be together again. For the world.

"Why?" he wanted to scream. What was the point? She was pregnant; this was all that was asked from him, a sperm. The prophecy never said anything about affection; it never said anything about lies.

But then Clark said that Chloe had had an abortion. The baby had died.  
He wasn't sure if to laugh or to cry — the baby, his baby, had died. It was now free from the burden of the world. And from him.  
He was sure the prophecy didn't say anything about THAT.

Clark said that it did. It claimed there will be obstacles, but the baby that will be born will save the world. It will. You'll see, Lex, it will.

He wanted to say, "Screw the prophecy, screw the world," but in the end all that he said was "Screw you," and he knew that he really meant that. Because Clark was toying with his head again, just like when he persuaded him to marry Chloe so long ago.

Clark turned crimson but at this point Lex didn't care. Clark had Lana. He had love, he had life.  
And now he wanted to take over Lex's as well.

"Just get out, please," he begged Clark, and for the first time Clark actually listened.

This, too, was on the TV the next day. He didn't know why any of these things kept surprising him.

So Chloe came and this time he actually paid some attention to her, because she wasn't on Their side, and that was quite rare.

Eight months later the baby was soon to be conceived but love still didn't blossom. But that was all right, Chloe told him one day when he confessed. She wasn't the fairy tale person anyhow.  
In a way he didn't know back then to name he sensed she was lying. But that was OK, he was lying, too. He learnt to predict her, to love her in his own way.

The next day the TV talked about the missile catastrophe in Belgium, and he knew she was safe. As long he didn't care, they were safe.

And then the baby was born.

Anna, named after Chloe's mother.

Then she was taken. Yet that was all right, he expected that to happen. She had a prophecy to live up to and a world to save.

He never really believed in prophecies. He always thought they were a load of shit. Because he was a doubter, it was his job to doubt.  
And if he could have let the world blow up and keep his daughter, he would have done it.  
But he didn't.

Maybe deep inside he was a Believer, too.


	2. Anna

**Chapter 2: ANNA**

They called me Anna. The bringer of joy. Gracious.  
They, as in my parents. My real parents. The ones who gave up on me.

I once asked Dad who they were and why they let me go, but he just sort of evaded and told me to continue eating my food because, for God's sake, it was getting cold. Dad used the word God a lot. I used to think that it was because he was a religious man, but then Nancy, my nanny, told me that it was because he thought he was a god, as many others did. But when I asked her what that meant she said that these things are not for good little girls to hear.  
I think I was five at the time.

When I asked Mom about my parents she said they were drug addicted, the kind that you see shot at the stage every Monday evening. She wouldn't tell me if they had been shot, too.

I used to hope they had been because it would mean that they hadn't chosen to leave me, they had had no choice. But then Nancy said that I mustn't say that. That good little girls must be compassionate even to the scallywags that abandoned them.  
When I asked Mom what a scallywags was, she told me that I shouldn't ask these kinds of things, and Nancy was fired.  
But that was OK, I didn't like her anyways. She said a lot of weird words and never explained them to me.

Then Joshua came.

Mom and Dad fought. Dad said that no man would get close to his daughter and Mom yelled back that he needed to stop being such a chauvinist and that I wasn't his daughter. They were silent for a minute and then Mom said that she was sorry, even though I could tell by her voice that she wasn't.

Mom and Dad couldn't have children. They explained it to me when I was really little, and said that the stork was afraid of them. But then I heard Nancy saying that it was because Dad was an alien, and his body wasn't right for humans.  
I believed that more because there had to be a difference between Dad and the rest of the world. Grandpa is telepathic and Grandma has element control, but Dad always looked normal to me. So if not having kids is his thing…

Some people said that Dad was strong and had heat and X-ray vision, too, but I never saw him use any of these things. He said it made Mom nervous.

He also told me one day that he considered being a hero in disguise, to help the innocents, and he even showed me his outfit. I thought it looked really stupid and told him that. At first he laughed but later he rebuked me that I shouldn't say these things, or Mom would hear.

I always knew he was a little afraid of her.

So I said that it looked funny instead. That he would have caught a cold wearing only those tights, and in any case, putting on glasses as a secret identity was lame. People would be on to that in minutes.  
He agreed with me and told me that this was why he decided there were better ways to save humanity.  
He wouldn't tell me how.

One day we had a weird phone call from someone named Chloe, but mom hung up on her. She showed me Chloe's picture and told me this woman was insane, and that if I saw her I should call Dad.  
I promised I would but decided that she didn't tell me to call him _immediately_, so that means that talking to her was OK.

I tried to find her in the yellow pages but there were too many Chloes without pictures so I gave up. I was curious, sure, but I couldn't find her and saw no point in angering Mom and Dad with questions. And I couldn't ask Joshua either, because I knew that he would report anything I asked him to Mom, even if I asked him not to.

I once asked him if he had nightmares and he said that everyone did, and this was nothing to be ashamed of. I made him swear that he wouldn't tell Mom and Dad, and told him that I had this dream of a young man and woman hugging each other, and me. But then the earth was quaking and thunder hit one of them, and he was burning. Then someone took me. They said it would save the world. But nobody heard me crying, that I didn't want to go.  
The next time I had that dream Mom and Dad were by my bed and they told me that I had nothing to worry about, the flood couldn't hurt me.  
But I never told Joshua about the flood. I liked the flood. It made it harder for the bad man to get me.

Then one evening when it was just me and Dad in the house, we got another phone call. This time from a panicked man. Dad paled and called Joshua, said that he needed to come home and babysit me. But Joshua wouldn't do it, he said that he told us already that his wife was in labor, and that this was the first time he asked anything from Dad. But then Dad cursed and made me close my ears as if this way I wouldn't hear how much he swore. Then he made sure that my hands stayed on my ears tightly, and called Pete.

Dad once said that Pete was a friend, but by the way they talked on the phone he didn't sound like a very good one. Dad yelled a lot and I could hear Pete saying things, too, even if I tried not to. So Dad cursed again and then he lifted my hands from my ears, and hung up the phone so hard that it broke.

I think he sensed that I was scared because then he came to me and hugged me tightly. He told me that we needed to go, so I should hang to him tightly and when we'd reached there, I was not to wander around.

So I grabbed him and for the first time I saw how he flew!

That was the first time I ever saw the Outside. Mom and Dad always told me that the Outside was full of bad people who lie and steal. Some of them would even try to hurt me, even if I didn't do anything bad to them. It was because I'm their daughter.  
But this time they wouldn't hurt me, Dad said. Because he was there to protect me.

They were right. I didn't like the Outside. It was cold. And noisy. People were running everywhere, and there was too much dust that got into my eyes. I once heard Joshua saying that the air was polluted outside, but only now I understood what _polluted_ was. I wanted to ask Dad how they could live like that, but then he flew faster and I couldn't open my mouth to ask him for fear of throwing up.

A moment later we reached a small yellow house, and though the air still smelled weird, it was better. There weren't so many cars there, but the place didn't look welcoming. It had a large pointed fence around it and I couldn't see the entrance. But Dad flew right in so I guessed this was probably why they didn't have a gate — they could simply fly in and out.

We landed near the front door and he told me in a harsh voice not to move from the spot where he put me, and then he rushed inside and closed the door.  
There were shouts and a voice of something breaking. In about a minute later the door was opened and a blonde woman came outside to me.

"Oh, my baby," she said, tears in her eyes. I remembered her. She was Chloe. The insane. She got me confused with her daughter, I realized, but I decided that I wasn't afraid from her. Only for her. She looked like a nice person.

"Hi Chloe, I'm Anna," I said. I hoped that I was appropriate. Joshua always told me to say "Mrs." to whomever I want to address, but I didn't know her last name. And besides, she didn't look offended.

"Come to me, please." She stretched her arms to me, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to call Dad but that would mean that I wouldn't meet her and ask her if she knew my mom, the one question I dreamt to ask the first Outsider I would meet.

I then decided that I would come to her because I could always call Dad later, so I stepped closer when the door was opened again, this time Dad standing in the doorframe.

"Don't come any closer, Anna!" he instructed me and then said in harsher tone, "Leave her alone, Chloe."

"Leave her! She's my baby, Clark! I believed you, damn it! Damn it!" she shouted, tears running uncontrolled down her cheeks.

She was very pretty but she had sad eyes. People always say that I have sad eyes, too, but that's because I'm not allowed to play with other children. I wondered if that was why she was sad, too.

I wanted to ask her that but then the sadness disappeared and there was something hard in her eyes instead. Like Mom's eyes when she talked about why we couldn't meet Jonathan and Martha because they only want to take me away from them.

Then a bald man ran to her, shouting, "Chloe, NO!"

But she didn't hear him and I saw that she had a gun in her hands and wondered if she would use it, and I wanted to see what was going to happen, but Dad caught me and closed my eyes and ears fiercely with his hands, hugging me. He told me that everything was going to be OK.  
But I knew that nothing was. She shot the gun.


	3. Chloe

**Chapter 3: CHLOE**

She can still remember that once she believed in the truth.

Once she wanted more than anything else to be a reporter, someone who would strive to bring justice to the people, who would bring conspiracies to the light and weed corrupted man out of the system.

Those days are long gone and she rarely thinks about them anymore. She looks at them like heaven, times when she didn't have to fight everyday with herself to keep on living, when she was still naïve.

Not as naïve as some thought she was. She did, after all, want to be a part of the newspaper system. She knew how the world worked. And still, she let herself be tricked.  
And for that, she will never forgive herself. Or him.

She loved Clark in those ancient times, and he knew it. He took advantage of that love, of that once-so-pure emotion, and distorted it to a sense of duty. He told her that she needed to do what he asked for herself. For the world. And for him.  
The last request broke her defenses. She was a foolish girl. She thought he was sacrificing, too.

So they married her to Lex Luthor and she got pregnant from him. She hated him in the beginning. He was part of all the lies that she wanted to get rid of, but couldn't.

One day she heard him talking to his father, about her. To the camera. It was in that moment when she realized everything. Maybe his pain in that moment was real, but in every other aspect, he acted. His words were fake. Just like him. So she faked ones of her own as well, and told him that she loved him, knowing as a loyal product of the media consumer that now she had the people on her side.

She always believed in the power of publicity. A reporter must have credibility, and she worked hard on hers. She cooked the meals that he ate silently, hiding cameras in every available spot and played her heartache over the death of the child about whom she felt nothing, with the passions she lacked in their relationship.

But after a time she began noticing small things. Like the way he sat staring for days at the nothing, the real anger when she mentioned Clark, and how he tried to hide the way his hands shook when she told him she was pregnant again. He didn't even try to look happy for the sake of the people of Earth, he simply gawked, and said nothing.

In that time she also began noticing that she didn't mind preparing his meals anymore. Or the way she was fine with him touching her stomach cautiously. The way that her heart really did break when he said that he didn't love her, even when they were away from the camera's reach.

The next day she got rid of all the cameras, and was able to breathe again. Only she was so used of playing already that she didn't know anymore what she really felt. So she had to relearn what happiness was as she stroked her growing belly, or heard it kicking. She re-learnt the meaning of anger when Clark came and told her to put back the cameras. No, he didn't say, he demanded. And she was only too happy to throw him out.

It was good for her emotions practice.

Later that day, all the newspapers celebrated, but Lex looked at her differently. And more than everything else that she came to learn in those days, she discovered she liked the way Lex was looking at her. Even though he knew everything that was ugly about her, he didn't choose to leave.

He never said that he loved her even once but when their eyes met, she saw it and was happy. Because what one doesn't tell cannot be a lie.

But then the labor — oh, the pain!

She never thought she would live through it and in the feeling of "what the hell" she cursed everybody. Herself, for the failure of her body, Clark for tearing her trust, and the world that looked at her pain with damn curiosity, sitting in their homes on their sofas while she was being tortured. And no one said a thing.

Lex never said anything about not cursing him. In fact, he didn't talk a lot anymore; he just looked and kept silent all the time. She found that it was better that way and when she found the dinner he made for her, away from the cameras' eyes, she wept for the first time.

Not for the last.

After everything she had been through they dared to take Anna away. She fought, but the forces they were up against were too mighty. Then Clark called his People to create earthquake and floods and disasters. He threatened that the whole world would be ruined if they didn't give Anna.  
The whole world didn't say a thing. The fools, they thought it was the only way to save their planet, when in fact it was condemning it.

They gave up in the end, and never talked about Anna ever again. But they both learnt the real meaning of the world, and truth. Because once Chloe wanted to be a reporter, to help the world.

No more.


	4. Clark

**Chapter 4: CLARK**

People always tell me that I make them feel inferior.  
I only shrug. That's not my fault that I'm way better than them.

I can still remember times when I thought it was wrong to think that way, but they now seem too far-fetched and faded. I grew out of those days, thank god.

When my mother asked, I said those were a lie, nothing of them held the true essence of who I am.  
But when my adoptive mom, the one who was and that will always be more of a parent than my biological one asked, to her I couldn't lie. It was not as easy.  
She looked at me with such a pain in her eyes that I wanted so much to remember how it felt like to be held by her, how it felt like to feel. But I couldn't. So I only looked at her back and answered as calmly as I could: "Life."

When I looked in her eyes, the ones that could never tell a lie, I knew what was going to happen and accepted it a moment before it did. She put a note in my hand and walked away.  
When Lana came later and asked what I was burning, I couldn't even tell. There was no point knowing.

I sometimes think of the days when everything was better, simpler somehow. I miss them. At other times I hate them. But I am always, always, doomed to remember them. Even when all others have forgotten.  
No, this is not true. Lana remembers. I'm sure of that.

When Anna had nightmares we used to sit by her bed every night. If she remembered that we were there at the morning, we both looked at each other and hoped that someday she would get better. As all things are.  
And when she didn't — then we had had the morning to ourselves and we could finally celebrate. She was on the road of healing.

But one of those mornings Lana broke down. Something inside her snapped, she said. She couldn't go on anymore. I held her and asked what was wrong even though I already knew. Telling makes everything better, I always told her, and she told me everything.  
She told me that she missed her life, her old life, when she still lived. She missed Lex and Chloe because they were her friends, Clark. You've got to understand. That they stood by her when she thought that I didn't care about her, and gave her strength. How can she just forget them? she asked.

"By remembering the greater good, Lana," I answered her, then the same answer I gave anyone when they questioned, prodded or objected. Because only in the name of the greater good, I came to realize even as an infant, the end justifies the means.

She clung to me and whispered, "God, Clark. What have we done to that girl?" and there was so much agony in her voice, so much emptiness. I always knew how much she wanted to have a child of her own, that one day Anna wouldn't be enough. But I always hoped that these days would come later. Much later.  
Like never.

"We gave her parents, Lana. We love her, and she knows that."

She didn't say a thing. Maybe she needed to think or it was possible that she already knew that I had felt like her from time to time, but I chose to bury those feelings inside me for the sake of everything else.

People always tell me that I make them feel old.  
I only shrug. That's not my fault that I will stay young forever.

Only, what they will never realize is that eternal youth has its own price. To see everyone I love and hate dying before my eyes, and to know that I will never be able to save them. Because I can fight menaces and corruption. Even I cannot fight the angel of death.

I once told Lana that. That I will be alone in the end. That I simply know it.  
She didn't know what to say. I don't blame her. Nobody wants to hear of their death.

Sometimes when I look at her I can see how her end will be, and I swear to myself that I will protect her. That it will not happen. She will not be murdered.  
I could never see the face of the murderer, only the glint of the knife struck in her belly, and the shouts of horror.  
In times like that I truly hate Cassandra.

In fact, the only one I cannot see completely is Anna. But that's OK. Nobody likes to see the death of his loved ones, and I am no exception. Even though I am different in any other aspect.

When I talked to Lex years ago, when I was still young and naïve, he said that we do everything for the ones we love the most, even if our deeds are questionable. Even if one simply knows that the end doesn't justify the means, but he does that nevertheless. Because there is something at stake here — someone's life.  
That was probably why I thought that he of all people would understand when I and Cassandra told the world of the prophecy and took Anna from both him and Chloe.  
But I was wrong. Like everything else in his life, Lex didn't know how to do anything but to talk.

People always tell me that I'm making them feel nervous.  
I only shrug. I can't be held responsible for what they feel, for their fear. If they are not strong enough to stand beside me, they are better off not standing there in the first place, and save me, and them, a lot of trouble.

They tell me I'm overconfident, then. That even if I'm an alien, I should know better than to insult them. I need them, they have always told me, not even once considering that it is in fact the other way around — they need me.

Without me, and the prophecy, the world would not be as it is today. It would be barren, small and primitive. Children wouldn't be able to run in the streets, free, safe. We wouldn't have established the NE _(New Embassy)_ to welcome the newcomers from the Antregon. We wouldn't have known of its existence, even, still thinking that we live alone. That all that matters is us.

I have made all those change. For I am Prometheus. I have stolen the fire of my own kind and gave them to the people of Earth who have never given me anything but a will to hide.  
This is my present to them. And my curse.

I can still remember the times when they fought the invasion of the Kryptonians, when they were not as enlightened as they are now regarding the way of my biological parents. They shrieked in horror when the flood arrived, the gift from my mother to help them understand that peace of mind and safety — cost.

And they have paid with freedom.

Not that they know any of this. For now. They think that they got the better end of the stick. This is the way of all human beings, to see only what they want to see, even if the truth lies under their very own noses.

So the Kryptonians have helped me to conquer, taking my rightful place as a God on this land, and brought me and my people peace and prosperity.  
They are a blessing.  
I am a blessing. And whoever does not understand that is nothing but an idiot from the lower kind. I am a God to my people, and Gods do not have faults.

Only doubts. Sometimes.

"How can you look at yourself in the mirror, Clark?" Chloe once asked me when I found her on our doorstep, bleeding and dripping from water and sweat. Yet despite the angry words I let her in and gave her warm soup and clothes.

She never demanded an answer and I never gave her one. But if she had, I knew that just for this once I would tell her the truth. Because even Superheroes have breaking points.  
And the truth is — I simply don't.


	5. Cassandra

**Chapter 5: CASSANDRA**

She can still hear their screams at night, when she's still.  
The horrified shrieks of all those who perished in her name, and she asks for forgiveness. For they have died in vain, she knows. She is responsible. In a way.

That's why she visits them even if they can't see her. She puts her hand on their shoulders, on their hearts, trying to make connection and say that everything will be better soon.  
Even though she knows nothing will.

She has a lot of time to ponder her doings. Her trust, in her instincts and in him. If she had only not trusted as easily things would have been better. She would have been better. She wouldn't have been stuck here in this ghostly plane, neither living nor dead because she cannot move on to either world — they both consist of lost souls that had gone missing because of her. If she had kept silent, if she hadn't been so sure of herself, all would have been alive.  
And she would have been able to move on.

She haunts him, sometimes. At night. But he doesn't always see her. And when he does, he ignores her. "Leave me alone, Cassandra." He says, "You showed me what the world can be. I'm doing it."

It usually makes her go away, the guilt consuming her. But this time, she decides she will not leave until she understands. Because the world is coming to its end, and he doesn't even care.

"But why, Clark?" she squeaks when he comes home, Anna silent in his arms. But she could not have picked a worse time. He doesn't mind her, and continues to stare at Anna's still form.

She puts her palm on his shoulder, trying to yank him back to reality, but he only shrugs her away. She knows that he's the only one who can do that, who can hurt her even though she cannot feel pain anymore. Because they are connected in a way beyond death. She has given him her vision, and he used it for taking her life.

"Can't you see what happened?" he asks angrily, tears rolling down his cheeks. Vulnerable. Human. Almost.

"No, I can't," she confesses. "You know that ghosts can't see what happens in the past of the living."

"She shot her … Her own child" his voice is broken and she almost pities him.

"How?"

"She threatened suicide. Lex called me, hysterical, and I came. Like a lamb to her trap. She waited there. And then — she shot her daughter."

"Why?" Cassandra asks like an innocent child, like she hasn't seen the lust for murder in Chloe's mind every time she floated around her, trying to calm her down. She knew that things would come to that; she has always known that one day the young woman will rebel. But like all the elders she hoped that this would be long after her time. She hoped she would be able to cross long before it happened.

"I don't know! I don't know what happened!" he screams and for a moment all she sees is the young boy who came to her so many years ago, and saw for the first time what his future held. But then the visions scatter and she can only see him, the man. The one who brought a worse future than she could have ever imagined.

"She's … dead?" she asks him and for a moment he simply stares as if the possibility never occurred to him.

"I don't know! It ... shouldn't have happened! I shielded her with my body! She shouldn't have been hurt!" he raves manically and she's sure that he has lost his mind. But losses tend to do these sorts of things to people.

She wants to say that it was her time, but she can't lie. She didn't see the child's death to be by a bullet. The prophecy said it was supposed to be years later, safe, in her bed. From old age. The child was supposed to bring salvation to the world, after all. That was the prophecy.

Only no one but she and Clark knew that the prophecy was a lie.

An invention that both she and Clark wove in one tiresome night when they thought everyone else fell asleep. They wove their dreams then, and other people's future. They didn't think it mattered; they didn't think that one small child could make such a difference. They didn't take into consideration the feelings, the people, and the hurt. They didn't think that Anna would become so important. They only sought to punish Lex for his egoism. They only wanted to hurt Chloe badly enough so she would leave Clark alone. They only wanted to save Clark's life, because he couldn't father a child. And hers, because she hadn't any granddaughters. They only wanted to bring hope to the world, or so they told themselves. They only wanted to help.  
But instead they destroyed.

She guesses that in a way it's better that she can't move on. Because hell is the only thing that awaits her.

"What did you really see years ago, about Anna?" he asks suddenly as if continuing her train of thought. She knows it's the only thing that he cannot see, and blesses it. She doesn't see a point in telling him. She doesn't see the point in lying. "She is to die on her 21st birthday after being gang raped," she says, and her voice is clear despite the vivid picture that is now floating in her mind, refusing to go away even after all those years.

Yes, that was the poor baby's future. To die alone and sad, pained and calling for help.

"Why did no one hear her? Why didn't _I_ hear her?" he asks the question she waited for all these years, and she wonders if he's ready. Probably not, she figures, but he doesn't have a choice.  
Just like why she's still in here, between the dead and the living. Waiting. Today she will be set free.

"You died," she answers him truthfully and though it hurts her to tell him, she knows it's crucial. It's only a matter of time now before he will understand what it means. Before all that he has done to get that girl will slap him in the face because he will realize that she really matters. That he loves her.  
And that's why he cries now.

It takes him long to come to the conclusion, but he doesn't have too much time, so she helps him. She takes his hand and shows him what he must do to make everything better, to pay his debt to the world.

Her last vision.

"Will you look out for her?" he asks her and she smiles.

"We both will."

And he takes her hand and takes out the green rock and puts it beside himself, waiting for the time to flow. Then she strikes his nape, and smiles. She feels - -free. Because she can now move on to the lands of the dead at last, to walk side by side with her murderer, his head decapitated.

Just like hers.


	6. Ann

**Chapter 6: ANNA**

They called me angel, the hope of all mankind.  
I called myself the angel of death, for salvation comes only by sacrificing.

That's the one thing that the humankind cannot understand. And probably never will. That for the war to be won some battles have to be fought even against the odds. That some soldiers matter less than others, simply because those who follow orders are many. Those who give those orders are not as expendable.

When the world and I were younger, we didn't understand that. We thought that each person mattered, that all life should be cherished alike. But then we both grew up harshly and realized that equality, freedom and fairness only exist in a dream, utopia. But humankind is not ready for utopia, it never will be. For without evil and loss we will never be able to accept the good moments in life, and the reality that we are in fact alive. Because if all would have been like that — we wouldn't have been superior. And life is superiority; this is the only thing that matters.

Lana tries to tell me that I'm wrong. That there are many things that are worth fighting for more than life itself. She doesn't understand.  
She tells me that and I don't have the heart to tell her that it's not as simple as she thinks it is. Survival means fighting every day of your life, every second. Indeed, there are ones who don't feel it, who don't have to fight so frequently, but it is only thanks to those who do. To those who promised.

She knows I disagree and I think that in time she will even learn to accept the fact that we are different in our perspectives. And that's all right. The only thing she tells me when those discussions arise is that she worries about me, that Anna, you have to be careful.  
She doesn't know that I'm always careful. And that she's the only one who calls me Anna anymore.

That's the name that I was given by birth but I changed it when I was ten. When I've met my biological mother, and she killed me.

People always tell when I tell that story that I don't look dead. They think they're original.  
It's then when I show them the bullet in my head. It scares them, and I smile. Because only the strong ones, the ones who can face a living bullet in the head, are worthy to be with me.

Lana says that when I say that I sound obnoxious. Like Clark. I don't care much, that's how I feel. And anyway, Clark saved me. I don't see anything wrong taking few traits from him.

I can't remember that day but everyone told me that it was unbelievable. Clark protected me yet I got killed.

Later on I discovered that the bullet was covered in kryptonite. Clark simply didn't feel it going through him because he cared about me. Because I was important.  
That what killed him. That is why no one is important to me.

Then he gave his life for me. He was found dead, decapitated, with me near him, alive when I should have been dead. One day I met Cassandra and found out that he really gave his life for me — the Limbo of the Dead doesn't care who crosses, only that they do. That the number of the lost souls fits its list. And since Cassandra dwelled Up There she got herself some contacts and succeeded making it happen — kill Clark and give life to me.

I am the only documented case of that ever happening, and I guess I will forever be. For the times of miracles are already gone; people don't believe in them anymore, and neither should they. Science should fill them, passion for the empty parts of this world. Not of the one beyond.

That's what I'm fighting for, anyway. For them to worry only about those things.

Lex, my real father, told me that I should absolve Chloe. But he never forgave Clark, I could tell that from the calculated look that always lingered in his eyes. And the fact that the burning on his head was always there even though he could have gotten a skin transplant and made it disappear. But the fact was that Lex liked having the awful-looking scar as a reminder, that he was a victim.

A little after everything happened, I hated him for not taking me. Then I hated him when he did and took me from everyone I knew. I will forever hate him. And love him. As much as love and hate means in this world.

It's funny in a way that this man became my father in more ways than Clark was, even though he was with me fewer yeas. He helped me to become what I am today — stronger. He raised me almost single-handedly, with Lana going mental about her husband's death and Chloe committing suicide a week after Clark died. He raised no fool.

He always told me that I should look at what happens with a critical eye, to see the faults even in those I love. Because they, too, have faults. Not because they don't love me or because they wish to hurt, but because they are human beings. And if there was only one thing that could describe us — it would have been faults.  
He was cruel sometimes, especially when he said that I, too, have faults. But at others, he was the opposite. In a way he was the father I never wanted — teaching me the ways of survival. The value of silence. And compassion and love, that they matter more than everything else.

Yet he wronged with me. He didn't teach me the real ways of life. He didn't teach me to be truly cruel and to do what has to be done, despite everyone being sure that it was his influence. I once heard that Before he was a vicious man, but I could never believe that. He only told me to see the truth even when all others no longer see it, and to follow your own truth, your own heart.

There were times I thought that he taught me that because he truly did believe in the prophecy, despite saying that prophecies were a load of bullshit. But then I realized that he truly did love me, that he was the only one who saw through me — not as the child of the prophecy, but me. His daughter.  
I wasn't his daughter for long. He, too, was killed because he was proximate to me.  
That taught me the most important lesson. Lex lied. Love doesn't matter.

It was always dangerous to be around me, I always knew that. When I think about it so many years later I can suddenly understand things I couldn't back then. All the times when people came and I greeted them as a child, but they waved what I thought was a plastic gun at me — the gun was real.

They hated me back then; people truly hated me. At first I thought that was because of Clark but then I realized that it couldn't be it. Humankind is laden with evil and unhappiness regarding its life. I don't think that even they believed that killing me would have solved their problems. I was their excuse.

Maybe that was why they can accept me now. Because deep down they know that I am not evil, nor was Clark. Because for whatever wrong we have done, we did it from good intentions. I, at least, truly believe that in the beginning Clark's motives were noble. What happened after — it is only the human ambition to blame. And he was an alien; he learnt it from us. Ultimately, we brought it upon ourselves.

I remember that when I was young I was sure that I did something wrong. I always saw all those children running free, careless, swimming in a cloud of dust while I was always home in those horrid cleaning ventilators, drowning in only parental affection and not the kind I sought — from those my own age.  
I even asked Lana once, but she only smiled. I always hated her for that, and always will. Because she made me feel in that moment devious and sinful, someone who really did deserved to be locked up. To have the destiny that I didn't want to carry.

It was only years later when she told me that she smiled because I reminded her so much of herself – the same face and the same innocence that she knew would one day disappear. And even though I wasn't her real daughter, in that question she came to accept me.

But I realized that too many years after. If I had known that sooner I probably wouldn't have made all those mistakes.

No, I cannot lie to myself. I would have made them. Perhaps, though, for different reasons. The unmentionable things I did in my time were to have her accept me, to see that just like her husband, I was capable of making the hard decisions.  
But unmentionable things have a tendency to been done whatever the reasons are. They are a vital part of a planet's growth, and eventually of its level of involvement in the Upper Confederation of the Delta Universe. In a way I guess I did my planet a favor.

Not that it helps me sleep at night. There's nothing worse for slumber than a guilty conscience and that's the only disease to which no scientist could ever find a cure. I guess it's better that they won't; otherwise we would be no better than the animals. Because all animals can sleep after a great slaughter. Yet, they are much less vicious than man.  
Maybe it would have been better without evolution in the first place.  
Maybe.  
Or maybe evolution is the only thing that brings us hope that one day we will learn to become better. Or maybe this is what takes that hope away from us.

That's why I've called myself Hope. Not in the hope of bringing it, but in desire to take it. Because Hope is sentiment, Hope is vain. And I, who was born as the bringer of joy, couldn't find a harder contradiction than taking the hope away.

But you know something: I can't help but to feel the absurdity of life. Despite everything, I did save the world in the end. I did live up to the prophecy in a way. Because by taking the hope away from the breed of man, I encouraged them to obtain it. This time — for themselves. So that they will be able to live and prosper without me as their consulter and without the aliens to guard their steps.

I brought them freedom. Now, this is my time to retire, to live.

This is my 21st birthday today, and now that I'm done with saving the world, I can finally look forward to what will become the fresh beginning of my life.


End file.
